


Relax, will you? (EN)

by Bebec



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And angst, Angel Wings, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because we all LOVE angst, Blood and Violence, Darkness, Delirium, Devil wings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil me, Explosions, Fear, French to english, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt Lucifer, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Needs A Hug, Murder, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Panic, Season/Series 04, Short One Shot, Stab Wound, Translation, Vulnerable isn't okay, Whump, Whumptober, Work In Progress, and Long One Shot, and hurt, because i can't help myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-22 03:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bebec/pseuds/Bebec
Summary: His hands were shaking. His four hands were shaking.Two of them really were; hands. Five fingers, of skin, of blood, of flesh.@Whumptober 2019





	1. Shaky hands

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Relax, will you?](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/524294) by Bebec. 

> Here we go!  
I wanted to try some-october writing events for once. ^^ Let's see... whumptober? Definitely sounds good! X)  
The timing is pretty short so I can't promise the translation the day of the prompt. I'll do my best, though.  
It's gonna be short texts as well. Timing, y'know. 
> 
> Wish me good luck with this all new project.  
And enjoy, of course XD

**SHAKY HANDS**

~

His hands were shaking. His four hands were shaking. 

Two of them really were; hands. Five fingers, of skin, of blood, of flesh. The word was just for these two, he knew. He knew, from hearing his siblings reprimand him to misuse it. 

Yet, his wings were hands as well. Of flesh, blood, feathers... more than five. 

His hands, his shaky hands. 

Every one of them.

He took a deep breath; it didn't change anything. Nor the shivers, nor his raging breath, nor the place. He was still shaking, he was still here. 

Four by four. 

Hands by hands. 

Of flesh, of blood ; his blood and… something else's, torn to bits by one hand, stabbed to the dry ground by another, a feathery one. And these both hands, real ones ; shaky made of… covered with flesh and blood. 

Samael looked at his hands, still shaking while hearing other bestial shrieks all around him. Even more flesh…

And blood. 


	2. Explosion

**EXPLOSION**

~

"Come on, come on, come o—"

Chloe honked the horn, overtook, almost crashed into other cars and passersby. Her job alone could justify such crazy driving, but she hadn't turned on her rotating light. Of course she hadn't, it would have slowed her down, such a waste of time. 

"Come on, come on, come on, come on…."

Her whispers were submerged by another horn blast; this added to the screech of tires on the asphalt. She turned, accelerated, let her body follow the unrestrained driving of her car. A sharper turn to take and she almost ended stuck in the window display of a supermarket. 

Screw it.

She still wasn't going fast enough, wasn't far enough. 

"Come on!" she raged. 

She briefly moved one of her hand from the wheel to wipe the torrent of tears off her face, bringing back as much dust than tears on the leather. She leaned forward, barely seeing the phallic shape of Lux from here; an expected shape, given its owner's main penchants. Chloe held back a sob. 

There was no time for this. She had to move faster. 

She was almost there. Almost. 

Almost enough. 

Was it? He told her— He said... How many miles did he say? Two? Five? 

Two or five?!

_ "Damn it! _ " cursed the Detective, braking. 

She stared without blinking at the crowded street, looked into the rear-view mirror; there was no way to reverse. Stuck, she was stuck. Her breath got stuck in her chest as well, then went wild through her lips and nose. It wasn't enough. 

Not eno—

Lucifer's agonizing scream echoed in the stifling space of the car, the memory of his sacrifice. For miles, those miles that weren't enough... for her. Chloe bursted out of the car, with the door wide-opened to the street, to her frantic race. 

_ Come on. Come on.  _

She didn't take her eyes off Lux; close, far away. 

She pushed passerby, stumbled, kept running, out of breath. 

_ "Ple— Ple'se… G-go. Fas—" _

Chloe leaned on a wall in a deserted street. It was rough, crumbled. Like....

Bile raised from her stomach to her dry mouth, she sobbed, stopped walking to let it out. 

Too long. 

Sirens rang out, passed in front of her. Backup. Right... the smoke. We could see it rise in the sky from miles away. Miles, really? Was she that far?

_ "...Going? How far, Lucifer? Lucifer?!"  _

_ "L-Lux...." _

The Detective wiped the bile that was dripping down her chin, it tasted bitter. She started running again, staggering between the passerby's who looked dazed by her disheveled appearance, her panicked race and her obstinacy not to stop, whether they were trying to tell her to or not. 

Lux. 

She had to reach Lux. 

She saw his face, his back, his wings, over and over again; the three of them burnt out by the explosion, by her. Chloe was responsible. For not having sensed the danger, for being his weak point, the Devil's only weak point. She was seeing the nightclub, Lucifer's seriously burned skin, from head to toe. 

Nothing to do with the other head, his other face. Nothing to do with the Devil. 

The man had burned. The angel had burned. 

Just for her, just because of her. 

She had to fix this. She had to go away, fast enough, far enough - for him, so that he could rise from his ashes, so that he could meet her there; at Lux. No one could find him among the rubble. He couldn't die on her. 

He just couldn't. 

_ Come on, come on, com— _

**-xXx-**

She screwed something up.

Chloe had been going in circles longer than she dared to time. Dust and cement followed her walk. She passed the coffee table, walked around it, turned away from the bar once she reached it. 

And she did the same again. Like the other eighteen times before. 

She screwed something up. 

It has to be. 

She tapped her cell phone in her palm streaked with blood, - Lucifer's blood - a piece of feather hanging on her skin right under her sleeve. She didn't even think of removing any compromising celestial details from her appearance, which was already not much after her race, after the explosion. Who would notice such a small detail? 

She was alone. It was the problem. 

"Stop being paranoid, Chloe; he'll be fine. He's gonna come here, he's gonna come…" she whispered, turning back towards the bar. 

He did get through this; Dan had confirmed it. They had only found rubble and flames there. there wasn't half burnt out body left on the crime scene. The Devil ironically burned, for protecting her. Lucifer did manage to get through this. 

Still, he wasn't here with her.

Chloe had thought of many possible scenarios. His wings, which couldn't have carried him as far as Lux, him falling from the sky, in front of witnesses, him crashing on the asphalt, him— 

She squeezed her phone hard in her hand. "He. is. gonna. come."

He had to. She had to make him pay for scaring the crap out of her. 

Past her nineteenth anxious walk around the coffee table, Chloe stopped; she stopped her breath, her gaze, her senses on the ding of the elevator. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, so cruel to end like this. But... woudn't be angst, would it? X)  
I hope you liked it.   
The third one will come as soon as possible (much bigger, much darker)! Can't wait to share it X)


	3. Delirium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is psychological angst here. Quite heavy, I have much inspiration on it X)  
It's placed between the end of S4E07 and E08. 
> 
> (also, sorry for the mistakes ^^')
> 
> Music advice   
___________
> 
> 'Reuben and the Dark - Halleluyah'

**DELIRIUM**

~

Evil needs darkness.

It eats them, is content with them, it becomes their master. 

The Prince of Darkness... this is his name, one of his names, his name now; tomorrow and much further. 

Lucifer has been among darkness for a long time. He stays there, even after the Doctor Martin's departure; helpless in front of this evil, his evil. 'The' Evil, one might say. That would be accurate. It's bad, he _ is  _ bad. 

_ "We'll find a solution. Just t-try to... to calm down until I figure something out."  _

He's trying. He keeps trying. Drinks, cigarettes; the floor of the living room is covered with them. He also walked, on the same floor. All over, over and over again. Lucifer has sat down since, he stays seated in his armchair, he remains there; drinking, smoking, squeezing the leather armrests when he isn't busy with both. 

He stays seated, he waits.

** _"You've recently learned that angels self-actualize." _ **

Actualization. 

An... 'update', mh? That's all he needs to untie himself from this evil that devours him, really? An update for the latest one in force? 

_ "It's a matter of perception, Lucifer. These... these..."  _

Linda had a lot of trouble describing them. Lucifer didn't blame her; he no longer even dares to look at them, to feel them. It's also the goal of these bottles, these cigarette butts around him - around his evil throne -, all this time sitting there. 

_ "These things... It's your perception of yourself. A bad perception." _

Bad. 

Bad. 

He is. It's a fair perception, fairly bad. Fairly evil... 

** _"You're the King of All Evil! You're the King of All Lies!"_ **

A perception. 

Lucifer tries not to feel them...... but they're here. Right here in front of him, drawn on the ground, among darkness. The moon has lightened the sky, has darkened his evil, both shadows at his feet. Long, unsightly; dark shadows of his soul. 

His soul is what it is. 

No perception can change the depth of his soul, the darkness that resides within it. 

That surrounds him.

This darkness lying at his feet, its back broken - paralyzed for life, waiting for the next one; infernal, so much deserved. 

Tiernan Jr looks at him, smiles, laughs at him. "What kind of man pretends to be something he isn't?' 

"I don't," Lucifer replies, stiff in his chair. "I'm—"

"...the Devil? Then stop fighting, man. Why keep pretending?"

"Because…." Lucifer can't keep going. There's nothing more to say, nothing more to pretend. 

"Because you've been manipulated, Lucifer."

He lifts his head, holds his breath. Uriel goes around the piano, black. A new shadow adding to the darkness, reminding him of his, his identity. The only one that truly matters. His brother distractedly wipes the blood that soaks his tunic, which is spreading out, spilling to the ground, to the skipping shadows. 

"It's always been your problem," sighs his dead brother. "Listening to others, listening to your stupid hopes of redemption, yours as theirs…" 

His voice takes a higher intonation; " _ You were going to hurt him and you wanted me to leave because you knew it was wrong!" _

A paltry imitation of the Detective's voice. Uriel shakes his head, mocking him, mocking her. 

"She thinks she knows everything! I _ do know _ , Lucifer!" he exclaims, pointing at himself. 

He then looks at his chest, at Azrael's Blade that pierces his innards, the blood that drips, spreads out on the ground. "Well... I  _ knew."  _

Lucifer clenches his fists. 

"You're not here…" he murmurs and his brother laughs at his words. 

"Everyone is well aware of that, Luci. Everyone knows why, because of who... of what evil, to be exact." 

_ "Shut up!"  _ roars his brother. 

They're reprimanded, "Stop arguing, boys!" 

Charlotte Richards gets out of darkness, those surrounding his bar. They lap her skin, instead of the divine light that had come from her on the beach that day. Lucifer sinks into his seat, short of breath. He watches his mother leaning towards him after she gave a disapproving look to his brother's rotting corpse, still bloody wiseass beyond his perception, his predictions. Charlotte takes his face in her hands, her hands darkened by the evil that surrounds her, that oozes from everywhere. Coming out of him, of his watery eyes. 

He's crying Evil.

Her opaque eyes look at him, her hands touch him, her smile grazes his soul. 

"You did the right thing, my Lightbringer. You're determined, nothing stops you. You're like me!  _ My _ son!"

"No…" he sobs.

"I was ready to kill your detective to get what I want, to keep you with me," continues the shadow. "And you…" She affectionately tapped his nose with her cold finger. "You were ready to kill your own brother to protect her. Wasn't it a necessary evil, mh?"

"I-I…"

"Killing, uh? Tell me about it." 

A new voice, a new shadow. Pierce leans against his bookcase, crosses his arms on his chest. 

"I return the compliment," replies Lucifer, taking another cigarette out of his third opened pack."I have fulfilled my part of the deal…."

His numb fingers graze, hurt against the lighter; he grazes and hurt the few belief he has. Not a single light in the darkness, it dies before even rise. 

"And you took so much pleasure by fulfilling it," Pierce willingly agrees. "Because that's what you are deep down, someone evil. Like me... worse than me." 

He raises his hands up.

"I've only been here for a few thousand years. On Earth, moreover." 

"He has a point," says Uriel. 

The angel slowly - very slowly - pulls the sword out of his body. Lucifer's heartbeats are speeding up, the shadows are dancing on the floor, talking madly around him. Mad.. It's madness. They're just wings, just a bump in the road; that's what the Detective would say.

"She persists to see good in everyone," Pierce retorts, Uriel nodding. "She wants to change everyone, to change you into something you're not." 

** _"I think people are growing and changing all the time." _ **

Evil has grown inside him. It comes out, finally expresses itself. The change is here. 

_ "Humans…" _ sighs Uriel. 

"They can't understand you as I do, Lucifer," says his mother to him. 

"Oh, I do!" exclaims Eve, sparkling with joy, delighted to tickle Tiernan's broken back with her heel. 

Lucifer clenches his fists so hard that it hurts, he crushes his cigarette like he crushed Tiernan's back, to hurt him; hard, so hard...

"Enough of this…" he groans as he leans forward, his fists pressed against his forehead. 

"You're seeking self-actualization, Lucifer. I saw it in my patterns," almost shouts Uriel. 

"Don't fight, Lucifer," Charlotte encourage him.

_ "Stop…"  _ His fingernails scratch his scalp. 

"It never stops. It's your curse," Cain laughs at him. 

"It's your duty," adds Eve, hopping on the spot. 

_ "ENOUGH!" _

Linda will be sorry to hear that he couldn't calm down, just for one night. 

It doesn't matter. 

He can no longer wait, can no longer calm the darkness of his rotting soul. He can no longer see it, can no longer bare to hear it. Then Lucifer hits the air, the darkness and those sardonic shadows. He pushes the piano against the wall, knocks the bookcase over the window, grabs the metal joint of it and uses it to strike every one of them; invisible, untouchable, merciless. 

To clear the darkness. 

Completely exhausting, running out of ways of destruction, he collapses to the ground; alone, but still among darkness. The Evil has stopped to laugh, but it echoes within him, in each of his panicked breath. He moves back to the chair, remains there, leaning against its foot, distressed. 

Time passes, he doesn't move. He no longer expects anything. 

"I-I don't want to be a monster…" he repeats to the darkness, to those wings hidden in his flesh, his true soul. 

The moonlight brushes his wet cheek, his hair, his shaky lips. It brushes the ground, clears the darkness around the other couch, spared from his madness. 

Yet, a shadow is sitting on it. 

Nothing is spared. 

He doesn't dare to look at first; exhausted, tired of feeling when he shouldn't. He's just waiting for the dawn that is late, that is always late. 

This shadow doesn't speak. And for that reason alone, he turns his head to it. 

The Detective is looking at him, quiet, seated and smiling. 

That's all the evil he could have expected from her. 

No words, no reactions, no judgments. This is the worst evil, the worst of his soul, of his diabolical achievement. She wears the clothes of this achievement, of this great revelation between feathers, flames and murder. Between hope, reality and fate. Her white jacket shines under the lunar reflections, the shadows dance, leave and move away. 

He's looking at her. He looks at her and doesn't understand. "Why don't you say anything?" he murmured. 

Her smile widens. "Should I?" 

That's all she says, all she allows him to hear from her. She's right; there's nothing to say. He has nothing to say to justify his condition, his  _ update... _ because he knows it was wrong. Because he knows he is. He is for having scared her off, for having rejected her, for having plunged her into darkness with him. The Detective's appearance follows his thoughts; she's changing, reminding him his faults, each evil thing she endured. But she's not falling into darkness, she's staying in the light. 

She keeps smiling, she stays in the good. 

He turns to the side, his back pressed against the chair. 

** _"I believe in right and wrong and, deep down, I think that you do too." _ **

He's facing her. "I don't care about the right."

"I thought you don't lie?" 

"But I'm not telling the whole truth either." 

She nods. 

Her hair is now loose, her cheeks wet, her eyes red from the sorrow they both inflicted on themselves. 

"You will never accept who I really am…" he sobs. 

"I can't know that." 

She speaks for hope. He speaks for the darkness. 

"I'm the Devil."

"But you're also an angel." 

Lucifer keeps quiet, looks at her, watches this darkness leaving her... He watches the darkness disappear from his penthouse, from his soul. He looks at hope. He looks at it without believing it. 

"I—"

**-xXx-**

Lucifer opens his eyes with an instinctive jolt. 

His eyes fall on his phone, a jolt of reality, of civic duty to fulfill. He straightens up, studies his wrinkled clothes from the day before, which he didn't bother to take off before collapsing on his bed. He studies the morning already well advanced, the Detective who already requires his entire attention, all the good he can give. 

He looks over his shoulder, feels the evil that's hidden there...

_ "It's a matter of perception, Lucifer."  _

... And he tries the Detective's, tries to hope for a 'good' in the Evil that he is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the next one, I'm gonna associate two prompts 'Human shield' & 'stitches'. ;)  
Dunno when I'll be able to translate - it's a rough timing to follow (*short of breath). 
> 
> Let a comment if you liked ;)  
And thanks for reading =3


	4. My Devil shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, quite busy with annoying stuff IRL (I love my work so much lately --")  
And I'm working on a waaaay bigger OS for the whumptober. X)   
Big big angst (and wings Nav!)
> 
> About this one,  
I wanted to write about the revelation in the episode 2 (about Lucifer's vulnerability near Chloe).   
I combined two prompts too : 'Stitches' & 'Devil Shield'. 
> 
> Enjoy ('might have a LOT of mistakes, I don't re-read, not really)

**MY DEVIL SHIELD**

~

  
  


Something was wrong. 

The question was 'what'? 

Lucifer had reviewed much of the day, and even the day before. He had thought about every detail, every gesture, every word spoken by one or the other, by someone who had crossed his path during that time. He had done the same for the Detective. 

She was the one that was telling him - in the most awkward way - that something was wrong, after all.

He gazed at her. 

Her hands squeezing the steering wheel more than necessary, her forefinger tapping the same steering wheel without interruption, her stiff neck, her posture - sitting, her back straight, barely touching her seat. And her stubbornness of  _ not _ looking at him. 

Something was wrong. 

Something from him perhaps? More than any of the other people they met? 

Had he flirted too much with his lover from the Beginning of Time? No, the Detective couldn't be upset about such a thing. Not when things were clear between them, for both of them. From his point of view, she should have felt relieved. The Devil having fallen in love with someone else, nothing could be more comforting for her, for her fears. 

He terrified her, she couldn't blame him for this. 

That would have been foolish. 

It was something else. Anyone else he might have approached with too much familiarity? He didn't recall exceeding the current limits of their partnership. He hadn't destroyed evidence, hadn't destroyed witnesses and suspects; he hadn't even laid a hand on their man, that's saying something. Not wrong. 

A good partner. 

An overly impatient driver, like almost everyone else in this city and at this late hour of the evening, passed them with an unnecessary horn blast. Lucifer flinched instinctively, moving his shoulder away from the window against which he was previously leaning, supporting his thorough internal investigation as well. This movement, however slight it might have been, pulled on his few stitches.

He winced. And the Detective looked at him. 

As for Lucifer, he was looking at the split fabric of his shirt, five inches from his belt. The bandage was barely noticeable, although he noticed perfectly well the stitching in his flesh. That's all he'd noticed for the last hour. If anyone had suffered from any kind of physical outburst being inappropriate to social mores, it was him. And his shirt. 

It only fitted for the trash now, for a banal stab wound.

He looked up with a sigh, meeting Chloe's eyes. 

The irritation he saw in her eyes had reached new heights.

Was it about this, then? He thought, recalled the scene.

Lucifer had been slow to react, it's true. This fool, a fan of sharp penetrations of the flesh, had come within a hair's breadth of penetrating the Detective with his pathetic eight-inches. So little, but still too much for her. 

Who would be penetrated could have gone either way, the way he had moved.

What had he been thinking about that he was distracted for so long? Where had he not looked? Where had he looked too much? Had he crossed a line? Two? 

Added to this rather short timing, Chloe had hardly been able to rely on him to apprehend the suspect, although he took care to break his wrist once his own flesh had been penetrated. 

Right...  _ Perhaps  _ he had laid a hand on their man. Broken his, to be exact. 

He had lost his temper; for a moment, a pain that could have squeezed in another flesh than his. More fragile, more important than the Devil's flesh. 

But the Detective had every rights to blame him, she had every rights to expect more from him. 

"I would like to apologize for my outburst, Detective."

She looked back at him, more surprised than upset this time. "Your outburst? she repeated, frowning . 

"Well, yes, it was an outburst. I had no need to be so... brutal with our man. I could have stopped him earlier or hurt him less when he has— Isn't that why you're mad at me?" he asked, staring at her. 

"I'm mad at you?" 

"It feels like it." 

"I'm not," she denied, looking back at the road. "Not for this...." 

He frowned. "But you  _ are _ angry with me, Detective," he insisted. 

"I…" 

He lifted an eyebrow. "You?" 

"Okay, fine…" she gave up. "I'm upset.  _ You're _ upsetting me!"

"Come on, Detective. Malek will be fine; it was just a minor fracture—" 

She immediately interrupted him, parking the car at the corner of the nearest street and - doing so - encouraged other drivers with their endless bad mood. Lucifer held on to the dashboard, wincing again when the stitches pulled his skin in a direction it should never have taken on its own. She watched him wincing, more upset than before. More upset than ever. 

_ "This _ ," she exclaimed, pointing to his split shirt, "...this upsets me, Lucifer!"

"It's Armani, Det—"

"Stop this," she said, definitely upset. 

Lucifer frowned, lost. "Stop? Detec—"

"Stop thinking you're my human shield!"

"I'm the Devil," he corrected her. "Not human."

_ "That's the point!" _ Chloe shouted. 

He stayed quiet, watching her catching her breath, watching her looking at him; at his shirt, at him above all. Him, the Devil. She shook her head, her eyes glowing with tears. 

"You're immortal... because you're the Devil. Because you're not human, not like me." 

She bit her lower lip. "'Not the same next to me." 

"Detective...."

"You can't shield me with your body every time someone threatens me, Lucifer," she continued. "It doesn't work that way."

"Of course it is," he objected. "This isn't the first time I have spared you this kind of inconvenience," he added, vaguely pointing to his bandage. 

"But I know you could avoid it now," she replied, furious. "I make you vulnerable, you take great risks near me!"

"Again; nothing new, Detective. Your job lends itself to danger, you know this for long. And I'm not risking that much... Except running out of shirts in my dressing room perhaps," he said lightly. 

She laughed, a second of lightness in her annoyance. Then she shook her head again, she looked at him for a long time. 

"It's killing me; you risking your life just for me. It upsets me... because you could avoid it. It's— It's a lot to bare for me; I feel... responsible. I  _ am  _ responsible. I wish I wasn't."

He also looked at her for a long time. "Do you want me to put an end to it?"

Nothing could be easier. Easy to open the door. Nothing could be more difficult.

The Detective turned to him. She looked at him. 

And her mouth opened on words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ^^  
If I was the Detective, I would have been upset with this information. How not to be? She is responsible for the Devil's weakness. And he keeps putting himself in danger for her! As fluffly as the scene was in the episode (right? **), it's still a big stuff to handle.
> 
> See you soon for the next one I hope (gunpoint with a 'Douche' ^^)


End file.
